


The (Second) First Time

by thefooliam



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefooliam/pseuds/thefooliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 3x05. <i>It's the same way that makes Santana think they'll be doing stuff like this forever.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The (Second) First Time

Something tingles up her spine and she feels her before she catches sight of her in the corner of the mirror. Her hand pauses mid swipe of the lipstick over her lips and she can't help the smile that pulls at the corner of her mouth as she admires her from afar. Her dress is blue like her eyes and her hair's styled in a way that makes it look short and adorable... kinda like that summer when she got gum in her hair and her mom had to cut it short so that it didn't look silly and uneven.

Not that Brittany wouldn't have loved that.

(Santana's pretty sure that she would have, too.)

She laughs a little, so lost in her memory that she fails to notice silently graceful feet moving closer, carrying an even more graceful body. It's not until Brittany's close enough that she can feel the warmth of her cheeks and the breeze of her movements that the smile falls. It's the proximity that wipes the smile from Santana's face. At least, that's what she tells herself. There's also the fact that she's been avoiding Brittany ever since Rachel called them all into Mr Schue's class, letting Brittany's words chip away at her until she's ninety percent sure that she's crazy.

“ What are you laughing at?” Brittany asks, taking a quick look around to see if anyone's watching.

They aren't, of course. Rachel and Blaine have been getting ready across the stage for about four hours now and everyone else got ready way too early out of excitement. But Santana still can't get her hair to sit right and she's not sure if her make-up looks okay. She's not afraid to say that her stomach is churning with nerves and excitement. She wants everything to be perfect.

But when Brittany wraps one arm around her from behind and rests a chin on her shoulder before smiling at her sweetly in the mirror, the nerves bubble for entirely different reasons.

“ Nothing,” she says and shakes her head softly. “Your hair looks cute.”

Brittany smiles and her cheeks go a little pink. She presses a kiss to Santana's shoulder and buries her nose against the skin shyly before lifting her head. “You look beautiful,” she whispers quiet enough that Santana can be sure that no one heard.

She laces the fingers of her right hand with Brittany's left, until they're both resting on her hip, and tilts her head to rest against Brittany's. Lips press against her shoulder again, chaste and gentle, before blue eyes rise to look at her through fluttering eyelids, nerves filmed across them.

“ You've been avoiding me,” Brittany says without warning and Santana takes in a deep breath.

She knows she has and she knows why but she doesn't want Brittany to find out. Mostly because she's terrified of what she'll discover if she asks the questions she's desperate to ask. Brittany looks adorable when she snuggles her nose into the crook of her neck.

“ Did I do something wrong?” Santana feels the words more than hears them. They make her heart drop.

She wishes she could find a way to tell Brittany that it's nothing that she's done without informing her that she's scared of what  _somebody_    else may have done. It's the fear that someone may have hurt Brittany that's making Santana hold her at a distance. It's the overwhelming worry that someone took something from Brittany that she should have given away instead that's making her terrified and murderous at the same time. It's the inability to come out and just ask her that's making Santana feel so ashamed. It's the fact that she may not have been there to protect Brittany that's making her feel so guilty.

Santana doesn't say anything. She just leads Brittany until they're hidden behind bunches of stage curtain in a dark lit corner where no one can see them. They're all at the other side of the stage, worrying for reasons that Santana should care about too, but doesn't because of what's in front of her right now. She doesn't want to say it's her entire life but, sometimes, when she looks at Brittany, it feels like it. And the fact that her entire life could have been hurt and she did nothing about it makes a million bad things bubble inside her.

She pulls the curtains around them a little and Brittany smirks. It's her new favorite thing, concealing their intimacy behind random pieces of fabric (napkins, shower curtains, the covers on either of their beds). It's fun, and them, and makes it a lot easier to stop herself from finally giving in to what she knows they both want to do again (and again and again and again), when they pull back the fabric and remind themselves they shouldn't.

Brittany leans in instantly and Santana reluctantly pulls back with a smile. “I just caked on this lipstick,” she mumbles. “And I don't really have time to do it again.”

Brittany smirks and shakes her head. “That's fine,” she mumbles and then her face is buried against Santana's neck, kissing ruthlessly, her mouth thorough in everything it does as Santana's legs buckle under a particularly hard suck behind her ear. She's glad for Brittany's arms holding their bodies flush together.

“ Don't – don't leave any marks,” she pants, hands clutched at the back of Brittany's dress. A moan breaks free of her mouth and all she can think about is Rachel's emergency meeting, Cheerleading camp, alien invasions and how she's really fucking confused about what that even meant. “God, Britt-Britt,” she gasps and all she wants to do is kiss her and forget about all the things she's scared of, all the things she feels. She feels more things she never said bubbling up her throat threatening to spill from her but doesn't really want them to because they make her look pathetic and sentimental.

“ Is this about yesterday?” Brittany, always so astute, whispers in her ear before sucking the lobe gently. Santana's eyes roll back into her head. “Because I know you've been worried about sex and us and stuff for a while and I just want you to know that we don't have to take that next step yet if you don't want to.” Brittany pulls back and, despite Santana's earlier warning, she pecks her lips just once. “I know it's hard for you... I know that we have to go slowly and everything so you don't get scared or overwhelmed. We've only been dating for a little while...”

Her forehead rests against Santana's and Santana breathes even more unevenly, hands squeezing at the back of Brittany's dress so tightly she's sure Artie's probably going to yell at her before getting a wardrobe hand to smooth the creases out just as they're going on stage.

“ I want us to do this right,” Brittany admits quietly. Santana calms a little, eyes warming. “We've waited so long and everything.”

_Fuck it_ , Santana thinks and then her hands slip up Brittany's back until they're urging her closer at her shoulder blades and she's kissing her as perfectly as she's wanted to since they left that damn classroom. It says a million different things that Santana hasn't thought of to say yet.

She pulls away breathlessly and runs her lips together to get another taste of Brittany.

“ You were my first,” she whispers, breath hitching. Her eyes look away instantly.

She expects pity, most of all. She expects a... she doesn't know. She expects something to change for the worse because of her admission. She expects Brittany to look at her differently. She hopes for some guilt, maybe... regret if she's lucky.

What she doesn't expect is the relieved rush of air that brushes her skin and the sudden feel of lips searching out her own desperately. Brittany's hands reach for her cheeks and they hold her there steady until she can't breathe, pulling back..

“ Me too,” she says and Santana's eyes shoot open, tears and confusion pooling their easily.

She shakes her head. “W-what? But you said...”

Brittany presses closer and then their foreheads are touching again. She tilts her head to the side slightly and her thumbs press against the corners of Santana's mouth.

“ I lied,” she whispers. A chaste kiss presses to Santana's lips. She pulls back again and her eyes are set, certain... intimidatingly adamant. “I didn't want them to break it.”

Santana's brow furrows. “Break what?”

“ I didn't want to tell them the truth and have them rip it apart, make fun of us...” she shrugs. “Ruin it? I don't know. I just didn't want them to break it. Plus, it's mine –  _ours_ ,” she corrects herself quickly. “It's ours and no one can ever have it except us. So, I told them what they expected to hear and kept it safe.”

Brittany's eyes bore into her and, for a moment, Santana thinks she can actually feel herself falling in love; that she can actually feel that stomach-churning rush of falling as Brittany looks at her. Because, as Brittany looks at her, she feels like they're the most beautiful thing on the planet.

“ They don't need to know that my first time was  _perfect_ ,” Brittany mutters against her lips, blushing furiously. “That I'd never felt more safe than in that moment when you were touching me.” Santana shivers because she remembers that feeling – she  _misses_    that feeling. “They don't need to know that my first time didn't mean nothing. It meant everything. It still does, because I was crazy in love with the girl I lost my virginity to...” Her smile turns coy and she leans in again, kissing Santana softly and slowly. “And I still am.”

She barely has enough time to let her eyes flutter closed before Brittany's kissing her once more. Her mouth parts easily and she feels her heart pounding steadily in her chest as Brittany's tongue curls around her own, flicking at her teeth. Hands hold her close and she reciprocates that need, the one that makes her feel like she wants them to be one person instead of two. By the time Brittany pulls away, Santana knows she doesn't need to worry about her lipstick anymore because it's probably all gone.

“ Ten minutes!” Santana hears someone yell and she slumps a little.

“ I suddenly don't want to go be awesome on stage anymore,” she admits, pressing her own lingering kiss to Brittany's jaw.

Brittany giggles and wipes her thumb across Santana's bottom lip. “You kinda need to, though,” she shrugs. “No one can play Anita but you.”

Santana smiles. “That's true.

“ But you should really go re-do your lipstick,” Brittany says again, kissing her lips. “Before Artie gets mad.”

They separate and Santana's already a few steps away before she stops and turns back, hands worrying nervously as she turns back to Brittany. She's kinda shocked to find blue eyes watching her walk away, but she doesn't know why.

“ My parents couldn't come tonight,” she says gently. “They're staying the night at some... thing,” she shrugs. “They're coming tomorrow instead.” Brittany nods and smiles, waiting. “Come home with me?” she says, hoping her voice says enough.

It obviously does because Brittany's face relaxes into nerves. “Are you sure?” Santana nods... probably a little too eagerly. Brittany gulps visibly but her smile is still warm. “Okay. Sure.”

Brittany's the first to turn away then, most likely to hide the pink in her cheeks. Santana watches her but then she calls her name before she's even realizing she's doing it. Brittany stumbles and turns back. Her face looks worried, like Santana might have changed her mind already but Santana just smiles and shrugs her shoulders.

“ I'm still crazy in love with you, too,” she says.

The way understanding and then a grin erupts across Brittany's face replays in her mind for the entire performance.

//

Brittany's there to greet her in the wings once she comes in from her final bow. Her smile is wide and proud and Santana giggles a little as it gets bigger the closer she gets.

“ Hi,” she mumbles breathlessly.

Brittany just shakes her head, hands reaching out for her before they drop to her side, aware of the people around them.

“ You were amazing,” Brittany whispers and it's so honest it says a lot more than just the words. Santana's chest swells with pride, with achievement and she reaches forward to take Brittany's hand for a moment, squeezing it gently in her own. Her thumb strokes over Brittany's knuckles and she smiles with tears in her eyes.

“ Perfect,” Brittany nods and Santana knows that she won't really care what any one else says about her performance. Not when Brittany's smiling at her like that.

She steps closer and lets go of Brittany's hand. Her fingers brush over the fabric of Brittany's dress, tracing the curve of her waist for a split second before she looks up at her seriously. Her mouth opens to speak, to nervously ask if Brittany's still coming home with her, but she can't find away to stop herself from sounding stupid.

“ I told my parents I was staying over,” Brittany says saving her. There's a hitch in her voice that Santana knows too well and it make her heart hammer in her chest. “Did you bring your car? Do you want me to...”

Santana shakes her head. “We should... go to the after party first,” she says. “I mean, we owe it to Artie, right?” Brittany's eyes soften and Santana almost rolls hers. “I mean... I'm Anita.”

Brittany beams. “You really are.”

Santana blushes and looks around. “Plus, I don't know about you but... I'm  _starving_ .”

At that moment, Brittany's stomach grumbles for attention. They both giggle before Brittany extends her pinky to Santana, not having to wait a second before she wraps it with her own.

“ Come on,” Brittany smiles. “I'll pay.”

//

Brittany does pay. They sit with the cast and crew, but it doesn't feel right being there. It feels like there's itching powder on her seat and Santana shifts anxiously as Brittany does the same beside her. It's obvious to each of them that they both want to leave.

Still, Brittany orders a shrimp cocktail and they eat lazily between them, not really touching it at all, their hunger forgotten.

“ I could really go for a burger right now,” Brittany whispers in her ear. Santana's stomach groans in response.

They're saying their goodbyes five minutes later.

//

They eat their food with pleased grins on their mouths, at ease with each other in a way they weren't back at Breadstix.

Brittany gets ketchup down her chin and Santana shoves a napkin at her, giggling. They do what they always do and order two milkshakes, one strawberry and one chocolate, and share both because they can never properly decide which flavor they want. Santana pretends that Brittany's ankle hooked around her own beneath the table isn't a weird thing, but it feels awesome and intimate in her favorite way.

The same way that makes Santana think they'll be doing stuff like this forever.

//

The house is cold and empty when they finally get back to Santana's. There's no cars in the driveway and none of the lights are on. She takes Brittany by the hand once they've kicked their shoes off in the entryway and tugs her through to the kitchen.

She flicks the light on and does a double take when she catches something large and colorful obscuring her periphery. There's a large bouquet of roses sitting on the counter with a card stuck amongst them. Brittany squeezes her hand before letting it go and Santana's brow furrows as she steps closer. She sees her name easily and plucks the card from between two flowers before taking it from the envelope.

_Sorry we couldn't make it on opening night. Can't wait to see you tomorrow. We're so proud of you! All our love, Mama and Daddy x_

She feels Brittany's head drop to her shoulder. She lets her read the card before she slips it back into it's envelope and raises her arms as Brittany wraps her arms around her from behind.

“ That's awesome of them,” she mumbles into Santana's shoulder. Santana nods in agreement. “Looks like they've left you a note, too.”

Santana looks and, sure enough, there's a scribbled on piece of paper beside a few twenties. She pockets them without a thought and opens the note.

_Be home some time tomorrow afternoon. Don't forget to eat dinner. Love you._

She snorts and shakes her head. Brittany watches her. She can feel her eyes looking at her carefully and tries not to notice how nervous it makes her. Her fingers are warm, where they clutch at her waist near the hem of her tank top, and her entire body is as pressed to her as possible as she waits for their next move.

“ Wanna order Chinese?” she mumbles, bored.

Brittany snorts. “We just had burgers.”

Santana shrugs. “So?”

Brittany presses a kiss to her shoulder and nips playfully at the skin. “You can buy me breakfast in the morning, if you want...” Santana's stomach does that weird flippy thing it started doing when she was twelve and she clutches at Brittany's hands on her waist to steady herself. Brittany must feel the sharpness of her breath because she backtracks. “Or we could order Chinese. I don't mind.”

Santana turns in her embrace and wraps her arms around her. She breathes out.

“ I can make you breakfast if you want...” Santana whispers. Her chest flutters because this is all very intimate in a way she's not familiar with.

They've been doing this weird dance since the beginning of summer. It started off like they were friends and Santana started to worry that she'd lost her chance. Then Brittany had kissed her after Santana took her to see the fireworks on the Fourth Of July and then they'd spent an hour kissing in the front seat of her car. They'd been doing weird shit like that since, going places together and never really labeling it as anything... until it got too much and Santana just had to ask. It was weird to think they'd been dating all that time and she hadn't really noticed it. Ever since that, she's been trying her hardest to be good at this, but she's still not sure if she sucks or not.

“ Like, now... if you want?” she gulps nervously, looking everywhere but at Brittany. Brittany giggles. “I mean, is it just that you want eggs because I think we have – ”

Brittany cuts her off with a laugh. “You're silly,” she whispers and leans closer until their lips are a hair's breadth apart. “You know that's not what I meant.”

Santana smiles and takes the pecks that Brittany presses to her lips. “I suck at this, don't I?” she asks quietly, glad when Brittany shakes her head before leaning in to kiss her languidly. They don't stop until Santana's entire body is angled to Brittany, offering everything , and she pulls away, too worried that they'll end up doing it in the kitchen or something if she doesn't stop.

“ So, how's this going to work?” she says and mentally curses herself almost instantly. Brittany laughs and pushes her hair from her eyes. Well, not really. She just strokes her face because Santana's hair is still short for Anita and full of hairspray.

Brittany's kisses her once. “I am... going to take a shower,” she says slowly, untangling them but lacing their fingers together. “And then we'll see what happens from there, okay?”

Santana nods, glad that one of them knows what they're doing.

//

Brittany exits her bathroom and into her room half an hour later, toweling her hair dry as water drips down her cheeks.

Santana instantly feels uncomfortable. She gets up from the bed and laughs nervously. “I'm going to shower too,” she nods and then she's gone before Brittany can even say anything.

//

 

When she exits the bathroom, Brittany's rearranged her room.

She's pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows. The blinds and the drapes are closed and the room is dark apart from the one light on her night table that Brittany's dimmed so the light isn't really there at all. There's snacks on the end of the bed; chips and candy and a bowl of popcorn look bright against the blackness of her dark sheets.

Brittany jumps from the bookcase where Santana keeps all her movies and turns to her quickly, handfuls of DVD cases in her hands.

“ I thought we could watch something...” she says softly.

She sounds a little unsure, nervous and under pressure. Her hair is dry from the few seconds that Santana heard her dry it and Santana's heart thumps at how adorable she is. Santana feels herself calm a little at the thought of Brittany being so slightly hysterical and she sits in the chair in front of her dresser and picks up the dryer, running it over her hair until it's almost as perfect as it was before.

“ We could watch  _Sweet Valley High_ , if you want?” Brittany says once the dryer is off and Santana's moving to the mirror to complete her nightly routine.

It's almost midnight and she should really be sleeping but she's never been more awake. Brittany doesn't look at her as she speaks and Santana steps towards her with a smile. She presses a hand to Brittany's back, waits for her to turn and it's not until Brittany's looking at her that she lets her smile grow.

“ You wanna hear a secret?” she says and Brittany's mouth closes a little in confusion. But then she nods and Santana wraps her arms around her waist loosely. She smirks. “I really, really don't like  _Sweet Valley High_    anymore.”

Brittany looks at her and Santana wants to kiss away how adorable she looks. “What?” she says in disbelief. “Why? When? I mean...”

Santana giggles and leans up on her bare feet to kiss Brittany's cheek. “It's easier to ignore when I'm making out with you...” she giggles. Another kiss finds Brittany's jaw and Santana takes the movies from her hands and puts them back onto the shelf. They won't be in alphabetical order anymore but, whatever. She doesn't care. “Come on,” she says pulling Brittany over to the chair by her hand.

She sits her down and turns the hair-dryer back on. Her hair is back to it's full length now and free from bobby pins and hairspray like her own. It's still curly, though and Santana's runs her fingers through it before she runs the dryer over it to take away the dampness. It makes her smile how soft it is.

Brittany watches her the whole time in the mirror. Santana can't fight the smirk that tugs at her lips and Brittany is silent as Santana moves around her and combs through her hair with her fingers as gently as she can. Brittany still doesn't say anything when Santana turns off the dryer, just does as she's told when Santana asks her to lean her head back, and lets her cleanse her face with make-up remover.

“ I think we should ignore Artie when he tells us to wear so much make-up again tomorrow,” she mumbles as the crown of Brittany's head rests against her stomach. Her eyes are closed and Santana looks at her, just because. “This stuff is crappy for your skin.”

Brittany nods in agreement. She's getting tired and Santana can tell from how her body slumps into the chair. She takes the moisturizer from her dresser and squeezes some into hand before dabbing it against Brittany's face. She giggles a little and Santana stops with a smile.

“ It's cold,” she explains and Santana doesn't stop herself like she usually would from bending down to kiss her quickly. Brittany jolts with the shock of the barely-there pressure and doesn't get a chance to reciprocate. Santana's already back upright and massaging the moisturizer into her skin.

When she's done, Santana leans forward again and kisses her, just because, not prepared for Brittany's arms reaching up to bring her closer to kiss her again and again and again. When they pull apart, Santana's arms are wrapped around Brittany's shoulders and Brittany's hands are tangled in her hair.

“ You okay?” Brittany asks softly, their noses pressed together.

Santana nods. “You?” Brittany smiles and it says everything. She kisses her once more. “Go sit on the bed. I just need to do me and I'll be right there.”

Brittany does as Santana says and gets up from the chair. Santana instantly steps towards the mirror, grabbing bottles to start cleansing her own face as quickly as she can. She wants to get all this routine stuff out the way so that she can just  _be_    with Brittany and be together like she's always wanted.

But then Brittany's arms are reaching for her waist as she comes into view behind Santana and she doesn't mind this at all, either. She loves how Brittany's arms feel wrapped around her, how she nuzzles into her shoulder as they look at each other through the mirror like they did earlier. This feels like one of those things they should have always been doing, one of those things that felt like it was missing before. Brittany's body is heavy and tired and her cheek is pink as she rests it against Santana's shoulder. She doesn't look at her own face the entire time she's cleansing it, more concerned with Brittany's as she watches her so intently.

Brittany doesn't move when Santana's finally done and she smiles before patting Brittany's hands with her own and unwrapping them from around her waist. Brittany groans in indignation.

Santana just giggles and bounds over to her television, switching it on and grabbing the remote before jumping onto her bed. Brittany turns and watches Santana as she shrugs from her spot lazing back on the middle of of the bed.

“ Where am I supposed to lay if you're in the middle?” Brittany says gently, standing at the bedside. Santana just shuffles back into the pillows, rearranging the mountain of them around her back before parting her legs and patting the space between them.

Brittany's eyes narrow curiously.

Santana just rolls her eyes, “Come on, and pass the popcorn on your way.”

Brittany does, slowly. She sits on the edge of the bed before reaching for the bowl and scooting back into Santana's body. Santana's there, ready for her, arms outstretched as Brittany fits herself into the curves of her. Santana jumps a little when she reaches forward again, thinking she's done something wrong, but then Brittany's taking the snacks from the end of the bed and putting them in the empty space beside them on the mattress and pulling the covers up over them.

“ Sorry,” she says once she's settled back against her. She takes the bowl from the other side where Santana clutches the edge and brings it onto her chest. “What are we watching?”

Santana's floored for a moment, mouth opening and closing pathetically as she gives herself a sec to familiarize herself with this new position. It's different, warm and completely comfortable. This is how couples lay together, how people in love – and have been in love for a really long time – lay together. She can feel Brittany's heartbeat against her chest, can feel every single breath she takes. Brittany's head shifts when Santana doesn't respond and watches whatever commercial is playing on screen as her head moves to rest against her shoulder.

Santana turns her head and kisses Brittany's hair, trying her best not to make it feel like a silent thank you.

“ What do you want to watch?” she says quietly. Brittany shrugs and snuggles closer. She takes one of Santana's arms and wraps it around her waist, clutching it to her stomach. She keeps it there until her hand can switch with the one on the bowl and tangles their fingers together.

“ Don't care,” she says airily. “Do you want some popcorn?”

Santana shakes her head and mutters a  _no_    against Brittany's ear. Brittany reaches around to slip the bowl onto the night stand and instantly turns her body back to the TV. Santana turns on some cartoons and tosses the remote aside, not really caring either. The bright colors and familiar sounds are comforting and they almost take her mind off the fact that, without the remote, she has no idea what she's meant to do with her other hand.

It takes her about three minutes to figure out that she can do whatever she wants. This isn't like before. This isn't like when they stopped being best friends and became more. This isn't even like a year ago when everything started to change. It's new and Brittany's hers – her  _girlfriend_  –  and that must mean she's allowed to touch her any way she wants without it being sexual and just because she needs to.

So, instead of watching the TV like Brittany is, she takes in Brittany's skin. Her bare arms extend from the short sleeves of her v-neck and stretch out into warm, comforting hands that are tangled with her own over Brittany's stomach. Her neck is warm against Santana's and she can remember how soft it is against her lips so she shifts her head to remind herself, eyes fluttering closed at the returning sensation. Goosebumps rise up on Brittany's arms as she presses her lips slowly, again and again and again, against the crook of her pale neck. Santana's hands instantly reach out to see if she can stroke them away, dragging her fingertips up and down over them as gently as she can.

She doesn't realize how silent the room has become, how quickly they've slipped into their own little bubble, until the loudest thing in her ears becomes the sharp exhale of breath that slips from Brittany's mouth.

“ I like this,” she whispers and Santana's eyes close at the words. Her other hand comes to rest atop their joined hands on her stomach, fingers brushing backwards and forwards over Santana's knuckles.

Santana gulps, unable to fight the sudden rush of adrenaline that courses through her. “Me too,” she whispers kissing behind Brittany's ear.

Something sinks inside of her then because she knows that this is how it should have always been, right from the very beginning. They should have been surrounded by this love that – most of the time – feels like it's out of control, from the second they first realized that they wanted nothing more than to kiss each other. She knows that she felt that; from the moment Brittany's lips touched hers, she knew that this was the only place she wanted to be, no matter how much she refused to admit it.

And it hits her then, quite suddenly, like a punch in the face, what Brittany said earlier. She instantly feels stupid because she was so caught up in discovering that no one hurt Brittany to realize that she was Brittany's first.

Her  _first_ .

She feels like she could cry because that's something she never thought she would be.

“ Britt Britt,” she whispers, voice catching in her throat. Brittany hears it and she turns to the side as much as she can before Santana's nose is squashed against her cheek. Santana tries to ignore the tears rolling down her face.

Brittany doesn't move, but her hands tighten around Santana and she shifts back a little more. “What's wrong?” she says, voice quiet and hushed.

Santana kisses her cheek, just because and shifts until Brittany's head is against her shoulder and she can peer into clear blue eyes.

“ Was I really your first?”

Brittany looks at her,  _really_    looks at her, before she nods gently.

And, because she can't help herself, and because it's the one thing she's so used to doing to Brittany, she has to ask. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Her heart stops beating in preparation because she thinks it would kill her if she did. She watches through tear-filled eyes as Brittany's face softens and her hand comes up to rest on Santana's cheek. Her thumb sweeps through a track of tears and she shakes her head.

“ You're crazy,” she says and a sob breaks free from Santana's lips. She captures her bottom lip between her teeth and doesn't dare tear her eyes away. “You were...” Brittany shakes her head. “It was...  _No_ , Santana. No. Of course you didn't.”

Santana's eyes close as she tries to force away the tears. Brittany swipes her fingers over and over the tears, eyes never looking away. Santana can feel their warmth and it makes her feel like she's the one being held.

“ I didn't think you were ever going to do it,” Brittany admits in a whisper. “I didn't... I wanted it to be you, so I waited and I waited...” she pauses and takes a deep breath. “I would have waited forever, Santana.”

Santana whimpers because she knows that Brittany isn't just talking about their first time. Breath shudders from her and it's weird that she's never been so damn happy. She tightens her grip on Brittany's hand and wraps the other around Brittany's chest until it comes to rest on her shoulder.

“ Why didn't –” she gasps out. Words don't seem like enough; the questions seem too many. She just shakes her head. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Brittany laughs and strokes her hair away from her face. “Because I felt silly,” she shrugs. “Because I was scared... I knew that I wasn't supposed to want you to be my first. I was scared I would lose my best friend if I told her that I didn't just want to kiss her sometimes.”

Santana shakes her head. “But I wanted that too,” she says, trying her hardest to be angry, but all she can be is relieved. “I would have looked after you better,” she promises, even though it's too late. “I would have... I would have made it perfect... I would have...”

Brittany takes a deep breath and the tips of her finger land over Santana's mouth.

“ Santana...” emotion hitches in Brittany's voice. She takes a moment, gulps and gives her the brightest smile. “It  _was_    perfect.”

Santana's eyes widen and she asks a quiet, “Really?” as Brittany smiles and nods.

She shifts her hand higher until she can cup Brittany's cheek and wipe away the one lone tear that curls down her cheek. For a moment, they just look at each other and draw the honesty from each other that they can't quite put into words.

“ I'm sorry I made you wait so long,” she says softly. Her fingers brush against Brittany's cheek and her lip quivers as she shrugs. “I'm sorry I'm still making you wait now.”

Brittany shakes her head and shifts up gently to press their noses together. Santana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She just wants to ask _how_    Brittany keeps making her feel like this after all this time because... it doesn't make any sense.

“ Hey,” Brittany whispers. “I'm still here, aren't I?”

Santana's eyes open slowly and it's like she's noticing for the first time what's going on around her. She swears she spends half her life worrying about what might happen so that she doesn't actually really take all that much time to realize what's happening. A year ago she would never have done this. If Brittany hadn't asked her to talk about it, she would still be pretending that this all meant nothing, that her heart didn't break a million times a day because of how much she stopped herself from feeling. She'd still be hurting Brittany and pretending she didn't care, using her and never telling her that she was the only thing – the only  _damn_    thing – that she wanted, that she was the first thing Santana had ever truly loved.

And now here she is and she has Brittany lying in her arms, knowing that she loves her. She has her. Brittany's  _hers_    and she's perfect.

Despite everything else going on and how far they have left to go, for a moment, Santana feels overwhelmingly proud of herself. She feels free enough that she can close the space between them and kiss Brittany once before pulling back to whisper “I'm going to love you forever” against her mouth.

It works how she wants it to because Brittany's eyes widen a little and her grip tightens against Santana's hand. She shifts closer and turns to her a little. “Promise?” she asks quietly.

Santana nods. “Promise.”

Brittany eyes widen more and a whimper escapes her. Her eyes search out Santana's like she's trying to find the lie or the joke and Santana hates herself a little. Brittany shakes her head and licks her lips. “Really?” she says.

“ Promise,” she says again. “No matter what.”

Brittany looks at her a little while longer before she nods and whispers “Okay,” against her lips. “You too,” she nods. “Always.”

“ Always,” Santana repeats.

They lapse into silence. Brittany keeps looking at her and, for the first time, Santana allows herself to look back too. She takes in every quirk in Brittany's face, the shape of her eyes and the curve of her lips. Her hand slips down to Brittany's neck to move out the way, so that Santana can take a mental snapshot of this moment as it is, what she knows she'll remember as the first time she promised forever, the moment when she knew there was no going back. Not that she would ever want to.

“ What are you thinking?” Brittany whispers and her body is so soft and trusting against Santana's that it begins to feel like that first time all over again.

Santana slips her hand back to Brittany's face and runs the pad of her thumb down Brittany's nose. She smiles, glad that the tears have gone, that the moment has passed.

“ I'm thinking that you're beautiful,” Santana mutters gently. “I'm thinking that I love your face.”

Brittany giggles but it's breathless, knowing of the tone to Santana's voice. “Yeah?”

Santana nods. “I love...” she swallows. “I love every single part of you.”

Brittany giggles again but it trails off as Santana leans forward and strokes her nose against her jaw. Santana clutches Brittany's hand tighter when she feels it begin to shake and pulls back a little to look at her, to see if she's okay before she leans down and buries her face against Brittany's neck. Her nose strokes across the skin, breathing in every single bit of her smell. She's sweet and salty and intoxicating; she always has been, even before there was fancy soap and perfume. Santana's eyes flutter a little and she presses a kiss to Brittany's skin unable to stop herself.

Just like the first time, all it it takes is one taste. Her mouth opens against Brittany's throat, sucking gently at the skin. Brittany should taste like Santana's soap, but she doesn't. She just tastes like Brittany. Her tongue flicks out against Brittany's throat and a sharp exhale leaves Brittany's mouth under the sensation. Santana wants to smile, but she'd rather hear the sound again.

“ Santana...” Brittany whispers as Santana shifts them slightly, until she can reach more of her neck. Her mouth pants breathlessly against Brittany's skin and she kisses there as Brittany's fingernails dig into her hand and the others scratch against the sheets, scrunching them into her hands.

Santana shakes with anticipation.

It's been... a really long time.

It's strange because, earlier, she thought they'd end up ripping each others clothes off and dragging each other to the bedroom. She thought that she'd want to rush it and do it as many times as she can, that there would be no time for foreplay or stuff like that. They've had their first time and a million times after it. They've done this so many times before that she was sure having sex would be exactly the same. Familiar and fun. She knew there would be some relief. Some... differences in the things they allowed themselves to do, but she didn't expect this.

She didn't expect to want Brittany more than she's ever wanted her before but, at the same time, to not rush anything at all. Something in the back of her head isn't telling her to hurry it; it tells her that this is the moment when Brittany truly becomes hers and she has to take her time claiming her.

Her kisses linger down Brittany's throat, into the dip between her collarbones and that's where Brittany starts to lose it a little, panting against Santana's cheek. Santana releases their hands and presses it to the mattress as she shifts and easily switches their positions until she's slipped from beneath Brittany. Brittany falls into the pillows without protest and reaches for Santana as her mouth searches out the other side of Brittany's neck.

A broken moan leaves her mouth and Santana's breath drags from within her. She doesn't think her kisses have ever been this furious, this relentless and she bites gently at Brittany's neck because she needs to.

Brittany cries out and Santana kisses against the same place she bit, hoping she didn't hurt her. It just makes Brittany breathe harder, makes her reach for Santana's body until it's clambering over hers. Her hands find Santana's cheeks and she clutches at her weakly as Santana kisses and licks at her neck, urging her head back into the pillows for more room. Her kisses linger down over her collarbones before slowly working back up to her jaw and down again. They're slow, but she has no idea where she wants to kiss most so she kisses everything and refuses to stop.

She balances her weight on one hand and lets the other stroke up Brittany's arm, over her shoulder, until she can tug at the neck of the loose v-neck Brittany wears to reveal more skin. She nips at the curve and perfect slope of her shoulder.

She remembers the last time her kisses were allowed to linger here, at the perfect patch of skin where shoulder merged to breast. It was the same night that changed everything. She hates to think of how she acted then, how she kissed Brittany so meaninglessly, and pretended like she didn't really give a crap at all, just wanted something warm beneath her, a release. Did she ever really appreciate it until it was taken away? She doesn't like to think about it because it hurts too much.

But now she thinks about that first time – their first time – and how badly she remembers she'd never wanted anything more. It's ridiculous how relieved she was that Brittany didn't push her away, how tightly they clung to each other like they were tethering each other to the planet. She doesn't know how she didn't guess that Brittany was just as scared as she was too. It was all fear, all worry for the fact that they'd been waiting... for each other, for the courage, for the right moment. It's just like Tina said. It was right.

When it comes to them, nothing has ever felt more  _right_    for Santana.

She's broken from her thoughts by Brittany's hands, worming between their bodies to clutch at the hem of her shirt. Santana leans up and looks down, watches as Brittany reveals the skin of her abdomen inch by inch until she realizes she could be the one that does the revealing. She helps Brittany, rests a hand beneath her back as she pulls the shirt over her head, and takes it from her to throw it across the room.

Her hands then go to Santana's tank top and she pauses searching out Santana's eyes before she does anything. Santana's too busy staring at bare chest and so much skin that it takes a nudge of Brittany's nose to get her attention.

“ You okay?” Brittany asks, concerned. Santana moves her head. It's not quite a nod or a shake. She's not entirely sure what she is. Brittany's brow furrows. “Baby?” she whispers, breathlessly.

Santana nods and searches out Brittany's face for signs of her own insecurities. “I'm fine,” she breathes, licking her lips. “Are you?”

Brittany grins. “I would be if you'd just kiss me already,” she teases and Santana smiles before she lets Brittany pull their mouths together.

She quickly parts their lips, as her hands slowly push Santana's tank up her torso until they're forced to separate. Santana presses her hands to the headboard as Brittany begins to kiss at her neck and shoulders. The tank hangs loose around her elbows and she shakes her head a little and tosses it away while soaking in the attention that Brittany gives to her chest, deliberately avoiding her breasts.

“ Britt...” she gasps and then Brittany's mouth is dipping into her cleavage, nose burying itself there before pressing a kiss to the side of one breast and then the other. Santana's too aware of the way one of Brittany's hands slides from the curve of her hip, up her waist before it curls around her chest. It cups her breast and circles around a nipple softly before lips enclose around it and a tongue flicks across it. It takes every bit of her strength not to collapse atop her.

Brittany moans against her as teeth bite down softly. Santana tries not to take note of all the things she's missed because she knows it's all of it, down to the way that the sheets feel beneath her knees and the way she slowly stops being able to feel her toes. She misses all of it, every single part and she would give anything to never have to miss it again, even though she knows that if she had it everyday she'd still manage to miss it somehow.

Her hand travels down to cup Brittany's cheek when she releases one nipple and heads for the other. Usually, she'd just leave her hand pressed to the mattress or the headboard, but she just wants to feel how Brittany's jaw moves as her tongue flicks against her. She just wants to know everything, all of it. She wants more than they had before, all the things she never allowed herself.

Brittany's mouth releases her nipple but her lips still work a steady path up Santana's neck. Her arms wrap around Santana's waist and bring her close, pull her down until their chest to chest, skin to skin. Her hands still linger above them, clutched at the pillows and grazing the headboard. She lifts up a little to look Brittany in the eye and loves what she sees. Brittany's all darkened eyes and parted lips, pink cheeks and sweaty brow.

She urges their mouths together again and her hands stroke over Santana's naked back, gripping at her shoulder blades and urging her closer with a flat palm to her spine. When their mouths open to each other again and their kisses grow desperate and dirty, Brittany lets one hand tangle in Santana's hair to urge her deeper. The other skirts down her back, tracing the bumps in her spine before it grips at her ass. Brittany rearranges their legs, lets her hips fall open more and urges Santana's hips into hers, rocking them to a steady rhythm.

She moans.

It's too much and not enough at the same time. It's been months –  _months_  –  since anyone touched her – since  _Brittany_    touched her. She moans against her mouth, desperate to pull away to breathe, but Brittany keeps her close, forces her to heave in breath through her nose as their tongues curl around each other and hips create delicious friction low in her stomach.

This  _really_    isn't going to take long and this totally isn't how she imagined it happening. She knows there are much more wonderful ways for Brittany to make her fall apart.

Her favorites involve a lot less clothing than this.

But Brittany is relentless. Her hips rock frantically and her kisses bite. She finally lets Santana pull back to moan and releases her own moan too, lips red and swollen. It's hot and beautiful and cute and she wants to remember the sight of her forever, even as an orgasms looms closer by the second. It only makes it worse when Brittany starts sucking at her neck, in that place she found when they were fourteen years old and has never failed to drive Santana crazy.

No one else has found it since.

“ Britt,” she whimpers, eyes rolling into her head. This is way out of hand. Way, way, way out of hand. “Britt, baby, I'm gonna come...”

Brittany groans. Her fingers brush through Santana's hair, the shortness bunched in her hands easily. Her other hand flexes on Santana's ass, urging her further and further against her until it feels like she's attempting to fuse their bodies into one entity.

“ Good,” her voice is barely a whisper, her breathing heavy and uneven. She shudders and Santana knows what that means. She doesn't know if she's _that_    close yet, but she listens to the sounds Brittany makes anyway because they're the things that she loves and misses the most. “Me too.”

Santana gasps as Brittany's movements start to jerk and speed up desperately. “Britt, we've not even –  _fuck_  –  we're still wearing...”

Brittany shakes her head and sucks at her jaw. “Don't care. Faster.”

Santana listens and reaches upwards for the headboard, gaining some leverage. She rocks harder, faster and watches Brittany beneath as she rises up a little. Her neck is flushed pink, her chest heaving with breath. Santana lets her eyes linger further to where their bodies crash together with each thrust and notices that everything's better with her eyes open.

A memory of their last time sparks within her and she instantly glances up to look Brittany in the eye. Her eyes are warm and she looks like she's been waiting for this moment. They bore back into her with love and need and Santana can't help but drag the most from every move from her hips, just because she wants to watch Brittany's eyes as she falls apart. It slows something in Brittany too. Her movements get less desperate, her hands stroke at the tiny curls at the base of Santana's neck. She becomes a wave and, in turn, Santana does too. Each sensation elongates itself inside of her and she lets her forehead fall to Brittany's because, at that moment, it's not about their release but about them.

Santana doesn't think she's seen anything as beautiful as the moment when Brittany's eyes grow wide, when her body stops and locks mid-thrust beneath her before her hips become slow and lazy, drawing out every little bit of pleasure they can. She would smile but she's filled with too much awe as Brittany's body hitches in time with her breath that she can do nothing but watch her and remember every single nuance of her face.

Her hand slips down from Santana's neck to stroke at her cheek and Santana nuzzle into it as Brittany starts to cant her hips forward again, urging Santana on. She watches her carefully, patient as she waits to see the same things that Santana got to see. She wonders, momentarily, if Brittany ever looked at her as she descended into pleasure, if she was the only one that looked away and pretended it wasn't happening. It doesn't take her long to remember who Brittany is and instead of guilt, she just feels extraordinarily lucky.

Brittany brings her closer and presses their lips together just once before stopping and shifting their legs. She brings Santana down onto her thigh hard and watches as she gasps.

“ Stop thinking,” she whispers softly. “I love you,” she reassures and Santana reaches for Brittany's cheek as she rolls her body softly, surely, until her orgasm takes her by surprise even thought she was searching for it.

When Brittany's mouth drops and her eyes grow large and stunned, Santana realizes that her release has little to do with herself. It's all for Brittany. She hopes she didn't disappoint, but then Brittany's hands are gripping at her cheeks and her thumbs are stroking gently over her cheekbones like she doesn't understand how a person could look like Santana must have done. Her eyes don't look away and Santana just watches as Brittany take her in. It's like she's checking to see if Santana's the same person.

Finally, she takes Brittany's hand and tangles it with her own against the pillows before she leans down to kiss her slowly.

“ I love you,” she whispers quietly, like it's a secret.

She hates that it actually is.

Brittany lets her hand drift back up her back, stroking up and down her spine. Her hair is wild and stark against the darkness of the pillow. “I know,” she mumbles. “I know you do.”

Santana smiles and kisses her again quickly. She looks away and looks down at them. She just wants to feel every part of them pressed together, every texture and sensation. The thin cotton of her pajama pants feels way too thick against the heaviness of Brittany's sweatpants. Brittany jolts when she moves away quickly but relaxes instantly when she sees what Santana's doing. She shifts away, fingers tucking in her waistband before she shuffles out of her pajamas and her underwear too, kicking them away at her feet. She pushes up onto her knees and searches Brittany for reassurance before she dips her finger into her waistband. Brittany just looks at her hungrily and Santana doesn't think again until Brittany's sweatpants and underwear are in her hands.

They're forgotten off the side of the bed when Santana notices the moisture pooling between Brittany's legs. Any plans she had to curl up with Brittany and wait for her to take the lead disappear with them.

Brittany must notice because she parts them further, offering herself.

Santana doesn't need to be asked twice.

She leans forward and captures Brittany in a kiss that moves away from her mouth quickly. Her lips linger down Brittany's neck, suck at her collarbones as a hand moves to stroke over a breast, toy with a nipple before Santana rushes it into her mouth. She spends long, luxurious moments teasing her until hands are in her hair again, urging her forward.

Her hands stroke over Brittany's abs, her mouth following slowly after. She opens her eyes and rests her cheek against Brittany's stomach as she maps out the freckles on her skin. She loves them almost as much as she loves Brittany, and she loves even more that she can express that now. Because Brittany doesn't seem to care that Santana's taking forever to go where they both know she's headed. She just savors the feel of fingertips and the occasional kiss fluttering over her abdomen while her fingers stroke over Santana's shoulders.

Her fingers lead the way. They follow the path down her abdomen to her hips, brushing backwards and forwards before they trace over the groves of her hip bones and dip down to her pelvis. Her breath hitches and Santana smiles, noticing how her legs part a little more, how her hips twitch up a little. Her fingers dip lower, finding slickness and warmth and they jump a little higher as Santana strokes everywhere but where Brittany wants her. Her hips squirm and Santana pulls back, taking a glance up at her to find her eyes closed tight and one of her hands fisted into the sheets beside her.

She doesn't think twice before she dips her head down between Brittany's legs and flicks her tongue just once over Brittany's clit before she sucks it quickly into her mouth.

If nothing else, the long drawn out groan that instantly leaves Brittany is totally worth it. She smirks against her, flicks her tongue and goes with the movement as Brittany's back arches and her hips rise off the bed.

She waits for them to return to the mattress before she presses her hands against them to hold them steady and resettles herself lower. Brittany pants as Santana looks up at her, watches her as she lifts one of Brittany's legs to throw it over her shoulder and pushes the other apart with a nudge of her nose. It twitches in response.

It's kind of a sensory overload for a moment. She can see her, smell her, taste her, hear the way she's breathing. She's so tangible beneath her fingers it's hard to believe she's actually there and Santana waits for Brittany to grip at the hand on her hip before she dips her mouth down and licks the length of her. She shudders and quakes instantly and Santana knows she's never going to go this long without doing this again, not so long that she's practically forgotten it all. Her mouth swirls over her, traces patterns over warmth and wetness until she's reacquainted with the taste of Brittany. It's like a drug and she's pretty sure she's intoxicated by it. She doesn't set any rhythm, just lets herself explore. Brittany lets her but the sharpness of her moans tells Santana's it's not going to be much longer before she's thrashing on the bed, bucking wildly against her, so she indulges herself for a few more minutes before she dips her tongue inside of her, moves it steadily and garners another series of moans from Brittany.

“ Wow, I've missed this,” she hears whimpered above her as Brittany's fingers tangle in her hair.

Her tongue pulses steadily inside of her and against her. She pulls back to suck at Brittany's clit every few moments and the fingernails of the hand holding Brittany's leg over her shoulder scratch up and down her thigh, curling around her ass to urge her closer. She's pretty sure she hears Brittany sob above her but she feels no guilt.

Brittany whines when Santana swirls her tongue at her entrance, teasing her over and over again with no pressure at all until Brittany's hand pushes at the back of her head. She relents to the pressure and dips her tongue inside of her again, moving it just how she knows Brittany likes. The succession of moans that break the air and tingle at her spine, shoot a want straight down to her center.

She keeps her mouth moving, even when her jaw begins to ache from it being so long ago since she last did this. She moans against Brittany, against the taste of her that only becomes better the longer it's in her mouth. The vibrations only serve to aid the process. Brittany's thighs begin to shake, her muscles twitch and Santana can see how her breasts bob with the heaving breath of her chest. She wants to dart her head up to lavish them with attention, to wrap her tongue around a nipple, but she knows she has a job to do.

Brittany's fingernails hurt her scalp but she ignores it. She smirks against Brittany's entrance, her tongue dancing over her. Brittany's tired. Santana can tell from the way her hips slump against the mattress and the way she leaves herself open to Santana and tries to take no control. The way that she whimpers says a lot too.

Santana presses a kiss to her clit before she skirts her mouth back down to her center, thrusts her tongue inside as she trails her hand down to swirl a thumb around Brittany's clit in the same way her tongue just did. Brittany sighs in thanks and Santana keeps her rhythm steady, urges her hips closer to her face with the hand on her ass. Brittany's hips start to cant with the liquid rush of the approach of her orgasm. Santana knows because she feels it start around her tongue and from the vibrations of the pulse through Brittany's body.

“ So close,” Brittany pants and it makes Santana shiver when Brittany does that, when she mutters to herself and coaches them through. “Please.”

She feels Brittany's inner walls begin to tighten and she works harder. Her thumb swirls and everything's in time with each other. The thrusts, the swirls, Brittany's pants and the movement of her hips. Santana's the only thing out of time, moaning on every other beat as Brittany begins to tense above her, hand gripping in her hair as she comes with a cry, her climax rolling through her, and its aftershocks quaking through to Santana's mouth.

Santana brings her down slowly, probably too slowly because Brittany grips warningly at her shoulders and pulls her up her body, barely letting her kiss anything on her way up, until she can dip her tongue between Brittany's parted lips. She hums at the taste of herself in Santana's mouth.

And for however tired she seemed a minute ago, the strength Brittany possesses when she throws Santana back onto the bed still manages to shock her. She's got that adamant look on her face again and Santana knows better than to try and argue. Not that she would, not when Brittany's hand is squeezing at a breast, not when she's kissing any breath she had left out of her lungs, not when her hand is scratching over her abs and dipping between her legs, slipping two fingers easily inside of her.

She yelps and she knows it's pathetic but she does. Her eyes roll back into her head and she falls into the embrace of Brittany's arm still wrapped around her shoulder. She rips herself away from the kiss and lets her hips move in time with Brittany's movements inside of her. She's rushed, desperate, putting a promise of more into every action and Santana loves her. She loves everything about her, so she cups the back of Brittany's neck, lazily strokes her hand down Brittany's spine and waits for the inevitable overwhelming punch of the orgasm that Brittany gives her.

And it really doesn't take long. It never does, not after she's done that to Brittany. It rocks her body until she forgets how to use it and leaves her feelings warm... safe... loved.

“ I love you,” she croaks once Brittany's finished littering kisses over her face, her chest, her neck.

Blue eyes look down at her and the words have never felt more true. Brittany, still breathless, kisses her once before she pulls away and presses their foreheads together. “I love you, too,” she whispers.

Her head rests against Santana's shoulder and, seconds later, she drifts peacefully off to sleep.

//

Santana watches her sleep, strokes the tip of her index finger over the contours of her cheek, traces her nose and her jaw, the curve of her eyebrows as gently as she can.

Brittany stirs in her sleep and tired blues flicker open to look at her. Santana can't help but smile and let out a gentle laugh.

“ You're perfect,” she breathes against Brittany's blond hair. Her lips press a kiss to her forehead.

Brittany smiles a little and looks up at her, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“ I was your first,” Santana says and Brittany nods, reassuring her again. She doesn't say anything for a long while. Not until Brittany's shifted closer, buried her head in her neck, and fallen back to sleep. It's then, in the comfort of the darkness that now envelopes her room, that she feels comfortable enough to reveal the only thing that she's wished for since the night she gave Brittany everything from her virginity to her heart.

She takes a shaky breath and holds Brittany closer.

“ I'd do anything to be your last,” she says and, released from the weight of it, her eyes close and she falls into an exhausted, content sleep.

 


End file.
